St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1887-11-24
THANKSGIVING DAY.

sometimes the sweetest roses or the year
l Lie in q wreath upon a coffin bier,
{ The room is dark; the mourners draped in
z black,
/; No ray of light save roses-and prayer
: And sad as funerals were the days that year;
The first the Pilgrims passed on that bleak
: shore
The Mayfower struck. Sickness and death
were there.
L The crops were light: the winter bleak and
! hoar.
/, ut on the coffin of that dead, cold year,
Those sturdy men-and there were women
/ there
: A wreath, Thanksgiving day, they laid with
prayer.
Its perfume fingers vat, still scents the air..
And how that rose transplanted, watered.
Has blossomed on this land. thousand
shoots
Fragrant as that one that the Pilgrims had
In tens of thousand homes send down their
roots.
1t was the sweetest flower of the year.
Fragrant as fumes of Araby its scent,
This day when prayers and songs were
waited up
And sunshine draped the earth, from heaven
sent
Oh, what a festival Thanksgiving was
In old New England, and it is to-day,
When families their broken circles mend:
Old, young and middeaged keep holiday,
A little world hemmed in those families.
Within, they were the lords and potentates:
School districts were their nations, so it
seemed,
And ''neighborhoods, partitioned off,
were states.
Behold the turkey steaming from the spit
He used to strut the barnyard all the day,
And gobble. till his form was round with fat,
Then, butchered to make Yankee holi-
day,
And rich plum pudding. full of juices sweet,
And spiced to tempt the palate of king,
Ny grandma am made it-makes them every
Lucullus well my grandma ANS praise
might sing
Just weight your soul down to this earthly
sphere
And sniff those pumpkin pie S all steaming
hot,
Look through the menus of the grand cafes
To find their equal. You will find it not.
And red as rubies, juicier than wine,
Behold those bon-bOns from the cranberry
field,
Gathered last fall, and stewed and sugared
DER;
NO better fruit than they the tropics yield.
And in that pan, see butternuts all cracked.
They grow beside the road. down by the
wall;
And beech nuts from the mountains. hazel
And ugly ''shagbarks," sweetest Of them
all.
Then, after dinner down the cellar stairs,
From some big cider kcg, draw the pitcher
full.
Old folks might drink it; twas too hard"
for young.
And games were played. There was blind
mans buff,
And ''button, button" shouting prov
erbs," "guess,"
"Stage coach and tag sometimes 'hide
and seek"
''Muggins'' and .'dominoes," checkers"
authors; ''ChesS. -
AT ''early candle light" It's safe to say,
81 The old and young sat round the blazing
pine,
MY grandsire read chapter, then he prayed,
'3 Then off to bed bedtime came by nine.
Oh, those Thanksgiving days, of all the best
1F A festival most honored. most refined,
Men thanked the god Of harvests for seant
crops,
Turkey with prayer they mixed; matter
with mind. 80
You men that deal in ''options" on the board
IL of trade
And speculate on corner lots until you're
gray,
] Have you forgot how when yon were boy,
4 Your fathers used to keep Thanksgiving
y day?
Quit worrying to-day and stay at home.
Brace up your tissues on turkey fat.
Be young again and with your youngsters
play,